FortyTwo
by Grav
Summary: I have no idea where this came from. First attempt at fanfics. WPOV, W/C, no idea why.


Forty-Two  
  
A.N. Okay, first attempt here. Attempting to start small in hopes that small messes are easier cleaned up and forgotten. Anyway, as is usually the case with my relationships to fan fiction, I am supposed to be doing something else right now. But when the story comes, it comes.and in this case, I have no idea where it came from.  
  
Disclaimer: CBS owns CSI, and as far as I know the concept of 42 was coined by Douglas Adams in The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, arguably one of the best books of all time.  
  
Spoilers: ALM and everything that predates it I guess.  
  
Archive: I don't even know what that means.  
  
Feedback: I have heard it is the lifeblood of a writer, so yes please.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
All of my life I have sought meaning. That search has been the only meaning my life has had. It is an irony that causes me pain, even as I laugh at the paradox my life has become. Often there is someone whom I can take my meaning from. Never my father, and never my mother, but what are humans if not adapters.  
  
And so I took meaning from my grandmother. Even when I knew she wasn't strong enough to provide the meaning for two people, I couldn't help myself. It had become a habit, one that I tried hard to break. But I replaced one addiction with another, and I spiraled out of control.  
  
My job gave me meaning, one of the best I have ever had. I got to help people. They tell me I don't have white-knight syndrome, but maybe I am just better at hiding it than some.better at making things objective. Sometimes I hate that.  
  
When the two collided, I almost lost everything, and Holly did. I can't even begin to describe my guilt. I have nightmares about it. About them telling me. About the look in Grissom's eyes, the disdain from Brass, all of them.  
  
I was late today. I can't even remember the last time I was late for work. I called her to tell her I was on my way. She said she'd be fine, she'd just process the scene and I would catch up with her when I got there.  
  
I never heard Holly scream, except in my dreams. When I heard "Suspect on location!" and the sounds of a struggle I felt my heart in my throat. I had done it again. I was off a scene when I should have been there. I should have been there for her.  
  
I panicked. I went on to automatic pilot. Draw the gun.run after the policemen.make sure she's okay.check perimeter.Holly.focus.Damn he's gone.  
  
Catherine.  
  
I came back inside, I had to know that she was really okay and that she wasn't just saying she was. What will I say to Lindsey if.don't even go there.  
  
Catherine.  
  
She's covered in blood. It isn't hers. I am so grateful, but the cut on her head needs attention, and I try to help. She reminds me not to touch her, and I sit by helplessly as she processes herself with a level of clinical detachment we usually only see from Grissom.  
  
She won't break down in front of David, or anyone else. But she does in front of me. I hug her of course, what else can I do? I admire her bravery. She faces her attacker, has the gall to look up his nose for the incriminating evidence, but I see her eyes as they lead him away.  
  
I have had nightmares for years. About gangs at school, about my grandmother, about gambling, about Holly. Now I know that she will be in them too. People that I must watch get hurt when I should be there to protect them.  
  
I have sought meaning so many times, and every time I get close something rips it away. Maybe I am not meant to have meaning, maybe everything is random.  
  
Maybe, I am getting close. Maybe in this building, the place where I work, and the place where I have learned so much will tell me someday.  
  
"Hey Greg" I shout down the hall to the lab.  
  
"What?" come the reply of an oft rattled lab tech.  
  
"Pick a number between one and a hundred."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Just do it Greg."  
  
"All right, all right." Man, he sounds harried, I wonder briefly what Gris has put him through tonight. "between one and a hundred, I'll take 42." 


End file.
